Chapter 1

Jennifer Windham was the picture of success and happiness. But as anyone who is familiar with Photoshop is aware, pictures should almost never be taken at face value. Such was the situation when it came to Jennifer.

She was thirty-five, in fabulous condition, thanks to having plenty of time to exercise. Said workouts involved Jazzercise, Pilates and other "fad" workouts, initially, until she figured out that running four miles a day took care of everything and was a lot cheaper. Not that money was a problem. Her husband, Roger, made plenty of that. Of course he spent half of every month out of town, and when he was home, he worked twelve hours a day, six days a week to make all that money. And, with a schedule like that, if he wasn't at work he was sleeping, or if it was Sunday, playing golf or networking in some other manner. Roger was an attorney, and his specialty was real estate.

It hadn't been that frenetic when they were younger, which was probably why he was able to get her pregnant once. Her little bundle of joy turned out to be a girl, who was the light of her life until she turned thirteen. Tiffany was her name, and it was prophetic, because she liked the kinds of things Tiffany and Company made. Of course Tiffany was aware that daddy was filthy rich, so she assumed she could have anything her heart desired. When Jennifer tried to correct that misunderstanding, Daddy came to Tiffany's rescue, actually telling her she could have anything she wanted. It wasn't long before daughter and father had teamed up against mother enough times that mother threw up the white flag and had to watch her daughter turn into a train wreck, waiting to happen.

Of course the public was never privy to that problem. Tiffany had lots of friends, most of whom also got pretty much whatever they wanted. As they say, birds of a feather flock together.

Jennifer was, therefore, left without a daughter to raise through her teenaged years. She compensated by volunteering. She volunteered at the Library, at the civic theater, and even at a homeless shelter, in the soup kitchen, which turned out to be her most favorite volunteer job of all. Until Roger put his foot down and said it was too sordid and dangerous to "traffic with those bums and vagrants." She would have gone to church, but Roger only went on the obligatory days, Easter and Christmas, and he said it would look bad if she went alone. Eventually she put her college degree in accounting to good use by volunteering to do the books of various charities in town.

There were parties, of course, most of them related to Roger's job at the firm. She had her network of women she called "friends" who she caught up with at such parties. She kept herself busy enough during the week that she didn't hobnob with the other wealthy wives, except at parties, or awards dinners or something like that. It wasn't that she didn't like the other women. She would have liked to know some of them a lot better. But to be honest, she felt slightly out of her element when she was with these expensively dressed and elaborately coifed women.

She herself was one of the lucky women who had flawless skin that looked great without a speck of makeup on it. Her eyebrows rose to graceful tips that made her look slightly inquisitive. Her nose was strong, but looked like it came from noble blood, somehow. Green eyes always mesmerized someone she was talking to, if she looked at them long enough for those eyes to register. She rarely did, though. She didn't understand why people stared into her eyes with such intensity, and she felt like they could see into the place she kept her secrets.

Of course if it was a man she was talking to, he wasn't looking into her eyes, most likely. Her figure was lush, well toned and shapely. Her high, firm breasts had never fed her daughter. Roger was disgusted by women nursing, and was of the opinion it should be against the law to be seen doing it. She had wanted her baby to have the best milk, but of course the idea of using a breast pump on her breasts wouldn't fly with her husband, and she couldn't do it without him finding out about it. In the end, formula had been so much easier.

When she'd had Tiffany, her hips had spread, and then stayed that way. She literally had an hourglass figure which, unknown to her, a lot of the other wives were insanely jealous of. All in all, her simple, natural beauty was a magnet to the men, and the women's attitude toward her was reflected in that.

She was closer to a few women than the others, though, among them a woman named Brandi Templeton. Brandi was a few years older than Jennifer, and came from old money. Why she had taken Jennifer under her wing was a surprise to both women, but she had. It wasn't a close friendship, exactly, but it was a warm one whenever they got together. That was usually for back yard cookouts, at which the men touted their knowledge of how to cook meat to perfection, tried to drink more beer than each other, and extolled on their immense worth to the world in general. The women usually sat around gossiping, watching the children swim in the back yard pool, and drank vibrantly colored mixed drinks with exotic names.

It was, in fact, at one such barbeque, that Jennifer Windham overheard something that would change her life forever, not to mention that of a number of other people, both present and absent from the gathering.

What she overheard was when Judy Denton leaned towards Kathy Nelson and said "Have you gotten your invitation yet?"

"No," pouted Kathy. "But Brandi promised it would be arriving soon."

"I got mine." Judy preened. "I'm going to try to lose five pounds. I'd just die of embarrassment if I had to show up at her birthday party like this."

Kathy waved a hand. "Don't be silly. It's not a contest, you know."

"It will be if I get fat," said Judy.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. We've been to how many of her birthday parties? Three? Did you ever fail to have a fabulous time?"

"Of course not," said Judy. She seemed to blush for some reason.

"Well you won't this time either. I'm so excited myself I can hardly wait!"

A minor disruption between children broke out, and the two women went to deal with that, leaving Jennifer to reflect on the fact that she had never been invited to even one of Brandi's birthday parties, while the two women she had just overheard talking had been to three. She felt both disillusioned and left out.

Her mood was ruined, but not enough that she was willing to confront Brandi about it.

Then things escalated when Tiffany waltzed up to her and said, "This is lame. Denise and I are going to the Mall."

"How are you getting there?" asked Jennifer automatically.

"Todd is going to take us," she said.

"I don't think so," said Jen. Todd was a twenty-one year old college boy with a reputation for being out of control. He had even propositioned her one time, saying he had something in his pants that would ruin her for all other men for the rest of her life.

"Daddy said we could go," said Tiffany in that singsong voice she so often used when she was trumping her mother's decision.

"You didn't tell your father how you were getting there, did you?" said Jen.

"He said we can go!" The girl actually stamped one foot.

"You're fifteen!" said Jen, her voice tight. "That boy is twenty-one."

"Are you calling him a rapist?" Tiffany's voice had risen to the point that people were beginning to look their way. Jen felt anger that her daughter was so selfish ... and stupid!

Brandi wandered over.

"Hi Jen. Hi, Tiffany," she said. Just her tone of voice suggested rebuke.

"I'm going to the mall!" yelled Tiffany, and, with her nose in the air, she marched off.

It was the utter frustration of trying to deal with her teenaged daughter that made Jennifer lash out at her friend.

"And why haven't you invited me to your birthday party?" she almost yelled.

A deep voice said, "Birthday party? I didn't know you were having a birthday party, dear."

Both women turned to see that they had been joined by Brad, Brandi's husband.

"It's just a little gathering of friends," said Brandi, her face smooth. "We're going to get together for drinks, that's all."

"Shall I send a gift?" asked the man. Jennifer stared at him. He was the woman's husband and he was asking if he should send her a birthday present to a party he wasn't going to be at. It was incredible. Jennifer looked around, and the world she lived in seemed to sparkle, as if it weren't a real place, but was instead a dream of some kind.

Her reverie was broken by Brandi's hand squeezing her elbow painfully as she was dragged to a place where no one could hear them.

"He doesn't know about the birthday parties!" hissed Brandi. "And you're not supposed to know either! How did you find out?"

Her face was angry, something Jennifer had never seen before. Brandi was always smiling, always happy and carefree.

"I just heard Kathy mention it to Judy."

"Those bitches!" said Brandi vehemently. "Talking about it in public? I should take them off the list!"

"What's going on?" asked Jennifer, frowning. She had never seen Brandi act like this. Never!

The woman's face smoothed over, and suddenly she was the same old Brandi, smiling and happy.

"It's nothing. It's just been a little secret, that's all. We get so few secrets in life, and if people ... if the men found out ... well it would be ruined, that's all. It's boring, really, come to think of it. That's why I never invited you. I knew you'd be bored to tears."

The whole speech rang false in Jennifer's ears. Now that she knew there was this other side to Brandi, the side that sounded almost vicious and vengeful, she listened with more than just her ears. She was astonished to find that it gave her a kind of power she'd never had. Emboldened, she spoke.

"Don't try to con me. What's going on, Brandi? If you're worried I'll go squeal to Brad, then don't. You know I wouldn't betray our friendship."

Brandi turned her eyes from the little groups of people she had been casually watching, and faced Jennifer. Her eyes were clear and there was no mirth on her face.

"You don't want to know," she said simply. "It's not your kind of thing, Jen. Trust me. I know you. You're a good girl, and these parties are where we let our bad girls out for a little while."

"I can be bad too," said Jennifer automatically. She was reminded of a time in grade school when she got into an argument with Ruth Ann Higgs over who could eat the most candy. Each one kept upping the quantities until it was ridiculous.

Brandi snorted. "You're a nice woman, Jen. Keep it that way. You don't want to come to my birthday party."

"Yes I do!" said Jennifer angrily. "Why does everybody always think they can tell me what I can and can't do? My own daughter won't listen to me! I want to come to your fucking party!" The last was said so loud that Brandi's hand came up, almost touching Jennifer's lips.

"Okay!" she hissed. "Okay," she said again, her voice lower. "But hear me now. You have to swear that you'll never mention what you see to anyone. Anyone! Not even me! Do you understand?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jennifer, confused. "You'll be there!"

Brandi put her face just inches from Jennifer's. "You must promise never to say a word to anyone. That's the deal. If you can't promise that, then you can't come, and I don't care who you complain to about it. If you talk about this to anyone, I'll just cancel the party. That's the deal, Jen."

"Okay," said Jennifer slowly. "I don't get it ... but okay."

"Oh, you'll get it," sighed Brandi. "But you may wish you hadn't browbeat me into letting you come."

Jennifer, with visions of truth or dare in her mind, suppressed a giggle. "When and where?" she asked.

"Brad and I have a hunting cabin up on at Silver Lake," she said. "The festivities start at seven, the Friday after this one. I'll send you directions in the mail. It's a sleepover. No cameras allowed, including your cell phone. If you bring a phone, it gets locked up until the party's over."

"What do I tell Roger?" asked Jen.

"That's your problem," said Brandi. "Just make sure it's good enough that he doesn't get suspicious and follow you or something."

"Why would he do that? I'm only going to a party."

"This isn't like any party you've ever been to, Jennifer. Trust me on that. Just remember you made me invite you."

"What should I wear?"

Brandi looked out at the crowd, and then back at Jen.

"It doesn't matter. Come as you are."

For the next two weeks Jennifer was uncharacteristically excited. The directions Brandi had spoken of came tucked into a friendship card. Roger never even gave the lavender envelope a glance. Friday, while Tiffany was in school and Roger was at work, she packed a small overnight bag and put it in the trunk of her Mercedes. Then she tried to paint, setting up her easel on the patio and putting a pot full of pansies on the table to render on the canvas.